Shameful Confidence

Posted on May 20, 2014 by upthestairs87

rebellion

Have you seen this clip from Louie?

If not, it’s a must see. Louie has been a comedian I have always had lukewarm feelings about, I find some of his act hilarious and some completely uninteresting. But, he really got it completely right this time. He hits on a sensitive topic by talking about the double standard woman deal with when it comes to their weight.

When you’re a woman and decide not to date a man because he’s overweight, you’re a bitch because of course he’s probably adorable and funny and all the other Hollywood stereotypes. Men get a free pass when it comes to dating large women though, because it’s completely understandable. Why would a guy ever be ridiculed or shamed for not dating an overweight woman? Being mocked is actually what usually keeps them away from fantastic, funny, and brilliant women. And the messed up thing is that our society says that’s okay.

This topic hits particularly close to home for me this week because I recently found out that at the beginning of my relationship with my ex, before his friends had even met me, he was already telling them that, “She used to be hot.” He apparently would show them old pictures of me on my Facebook and tell them that prior to meeting him, I was hot.

That stung. I mean, deep down somewhere at my core I really felt the burn of those words. I pride myself on being a very confident woman, I obviously have insecurities but I try very hard to not let them affect my life. Finding out about those comments, I’ll admit, set me back a little. I’ve been struggling the last few months to lose weight and (no fault to the friend who shared that information because I think it was important to know) that was really the last thing I needed to hear.

After the initial hurt of his careless words  started to fade away, I became angry. It really blew my mind. He had chosen me. I didn’t approach him first that late night, he walked over to me. And he didn’t walk over because I was giving some eloquent, brilliant speech in the middle of downtown. He walked over because he liked how my shirt fit. I wasn’t the first one to text constantly asking to see him again, that was him. He didn’t turn me down when I tried to attempt a first kiss, that again was reversed. How could someone be in an over two year relationship and not ever be attracted to their partner? They can’t, it’s not possible. He was even the one that said during one particularly emotional time after we’d broken up that he was particularly bummed because I had the best body out of anyone he’d dated. He then quickly followed that up with, “You should believe me because we’re not dating anymore and I don’t have to lie to you.”

Thanks.

So was it shame that he felt the need to justify my extra weight to his friends? Was it because I didn’t fit into a certain BMI and he thus ran the risk of being ridiculed for going after what he found attractive? No one knows but him and what Louie’s words show us is that there are many people out there who feel the same way as my ex.

It also starts a discussion, why do men feel so scared to admit that some women are the complete package for them, even if the package comes a little larger than some others. I’m lucky in that my body shape distributes my extra pounds in a way that makes it mostly flattering, but the fact is I’m still overweight. I’m still fat, and crazily enough, I still think I’m beautiful, sexy, alluring, pretty, and sometimes adorable. Really they should make a Barbie doll of more girls like me, they’d break a lot less. I still catch myself in the mirror sometimes and think, “Damn!” I buy two piece bathing suits and proudly wear them because a few stretch marks here or there aren’t going to ruin my chances of an amazing tan. I’m still allowed to think and do those things. Just like Louie’s date says in her monologue, why is the privilege of being wanted by someone taken away from me because my pant size isn’t single digit?

My ex doesn’t get to decide when I’m ‘hot.’ He didn’t then and he doesn’t get to now. Back in the ‘hot’ days he was referring to, I was less secure, and wasn’t as driven. Now I’ve added those qualities to my package plus I’ve got an ass that would make J-Lo jealous, so I’d say I’m doing okay. Because of that, I’ll continue on, with my low-calorie diet and daily gym routine knowing that someday, my weight problem might be fixed and if it isn’t, I’m still going to be as fabulous as I am now, probably even more so. He, and others like him though, will continue to battle the inner demons of insecurity and those are much, much, harder to get rid of than a few pounds of fat.

Posted in Life, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Worthy Love

Posted on April 28, 2014 by upthestairs87

barbie

You are worth more than the second glances and tired touches he gives.
You are worth more than the 12 a.m. text message he sends when his blood is swimming in alcohol.
You are worth more than the last-minute cancellations.
You are worth more than his receding hairline.
You are worth more than the guilt he fills the private spaces of your heart with.
You are worth more than his tired sighs that synchronize with your gentle touches.
You are worth more than his mommy issues.
You are worth more than the scribbled pages and empty paragraphs he leaves in your story.
You are worth more than his rough, drunken kisses.
You are worth more than time he gives away to others who catch his ever-wandering eye.
You are worth more than the snide comments he gives on the way your pants button.
You are worth more than his shoes he needs tied.
You are worth more than the broken pieces he holds over your head.
You are worth more than the hatred he fills you with.
You are worth more than the tears he causes to fall from your tired eyes.
And you are definitely worth more than the calloused hands he uses to push you aside.

So always remember that you are worth all the songs you choose to sing until your lungs give out, no matter how off-key you are.
You are worth the feeling of tripping, and falling directly into love.
You are worth picking up the hobby of running because you’re going toward something instead of away.
You are worth long car rides with fingers interlocked.
You are worth the ease of being whole; strong enough to forget the pain of being broken in half.
You are worth days filled with laughter.
You are worth discovering parts of yourself you never knew existed.
You are worth feeling like Julia Roberts, Rachel McAdams, and sometimes even Mindy Kaling.
You are worth being free of the grasp he kept tight around your neck.
You are worth tear-free pillows.
You are worth guilt-free nights filled with all the cheese, steak, and sweets you can eat.
You are worth believing that anything is still possible.
And you are certainly worth so much more than him.

Posted in Dating, Humor, Love, Relationships | Leave a comment

Shiny, Blue, You

Posted on March 2, 2014 by upthestairs87

Josie(Shiny, shiny, shiny!)

I knew it as soon as I saw it. This was the jacket. This was the coolest jacket ever put into existence and my twelve year old self just knew that if I owned this jacket I would be as equally cool and maybe everyone would forget the uncool ‘homeschooler’ label that followed me around.

In reality, being now twenty-six years old and no longer wearing a headgear or covering my walls with Hanson, I realize that the jacket was the farthest thing from the word ‘cool.’ I had spotted it in DEB’s (first red flag) and it was plastic, blue and, I’m not exaggerating, extremely shiny. It was exactly the style that every early 00’s pre-teen girl was following.

Still, my youthful, acne-ridden face honestly believed that this jacket was truly amazing. I promptly used all the babysitting money I’d made that week to make this essential purchase. (Because being homeschooled had some advantages, such as I was always rolling in the dough from the daytime jobs I landed during the week.) I slipped it on at home in my tiny, bedroom and felt like I was Britney Spears herself.

My mother made plans to take me to a movie that night and I was excited for the opportunity to show off my new purchase, even if it was with my mother and not any of the many adoring fans I was sure I would accumulate from wearing the jacket. We stopped on the way for gas and my mother decided that was the night I was going to learn how to pump gas. (I knew it was because obviously the jacket made me look very sophisticated, at least sixteen.) But the night quickly took a dark turn when I somehow managed to spill gas all over the ground, my pants and…dun, dun dun…my jacket! I was devastated. We quickly drove home and tried to wash out as much as possible but the jacket was deemed a lost cause and tossed away. It never even had a chance to see the light of day or meet my friends green faces.

At that time of my life, that night was traumatic. I really loved that jacket, and I thought it was amazing and the key to all my pre-teen dreams and happiness. Now being the older, much wiser, lady that I am I will always be eternally grateful that the jacket was destroyed. I count myself lucky that I don’t have pictures of that awkward phase of my life with that eyesore of a jacket draped on my bony shoulders. (There would have been an absurd amount I’m sure, there’s proof with many of the other questionable style choices I made at that age.)

I had another atrocious jacket enter my life four years ago and while I was again enthralled with the shiny smile, blue eyes, and plastic emotions that accompanied this one, it also came very close to ending in a ball of flames. He was another something I didn’t think I could live without, another piece that could fill whatever void happened to be there. That morning when it finally all came to an abrupt end, his words were the gasoline this time. As I walked away from something that was forever out of my reach, I again felt a hopelessness, like my world had been forever destroyed.

I now realize that that was most definitely not the case. I was blinded by the want deep inside my soul to be wrapped in his warmth but it was a false one that really wasn’t practical for me. I saved my heart from being set on fire that day because I knew when to let go of something that wasn’t worth saving anymore. I may have felt like what we had was something rare, and magnificent but looking back now I know that it held little of those attributes.

Both losses were a blessing in disguise. I know I’ll find another of each more suited to me and neither will be just a passing trend. I look forward to the find of a classic pea coat with wits, a rugged Carhartt with a jesting smile, or maybe a warm flannel that knows when to hold tight. I was lucky enough to be saved from a photo album of mistakes that I would have spent the rest of my life looking back on in regret and horror, and for that, I am eternally grateful.

Posted in Life, Love, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

My Favorite Way To Say I Love You

Posted on February 14, 2014 by upthestairs87

glasses

A friend made an observation the other day that I don’t have an issue with dating, I have an issue with intimacy. I scoffed at that statement but a few days later, when I found my mind wandering back to her words, I started worrying that her statement made more sense than I’d care to think.

I questioned myself because all of my relationships have been long distance. With any of my ex’s, they all had a similar pattern of either leaving for sets amount of time to places I could never reach them or they were preparing to leave and return to the place miles away that they were actually from.

I began to worry that my inability to be around someone for an extended period of time meant I was doomed to ever create a stable, loving relationship. I pictured, in the not so distant future, afghans made of cat hair covering every inch of my small apartment as I perused the internet for a man from far, far away.

Then I woke up.

No, that will not be my life. I realized instead that I truly enjoy the space in between visits from the person who makes my heart feel like it could beat right out of my chest. I like that my life doesn’t have to always center around one person. I like that I can be with someone who completes me, even without having to reach out and touch them. I like that I’m the type of woman who can give trust from a distance, and I like how being away from that person makes me love them even more.

So I don’t think I have an intimacy problem, because I believe that intimacy grows from much more than touches in the dark or sweaty palms being pressed together. I believe that my best form of true intimacy comes from the simple excitement of loving someone who doesn’t always have to be there to make me remember that feeling.

So my friend’s words, that were only meant in kindness, made me realize that good-byes are  truly my favorite way to say I love you.

Posted in Life, Love, Relationships | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

ME

The aftermath of rape isn’t always what you read about in sensationalized fiction. There isn’t always a girl who ends up finding her secret inner strength from that horrible experience. Sometimes pieces fall and break apart and they never come back, leaving an aching, empty, quiet space deep inside.

How do you convince a girl that once felt unwanted hands on her flesh that things will get better?  The physical pain may have ended shortly after it happened, quicker than she even expected, but that doesn’t stop the days, weeks, months and years down the road when she closes her eyes and only sees the images of his back as he pressed the rest of his body against her. It doesn’t erase the feeling that she didn’t do enough to stop him in the moment. It doesn’t take away the many nights she replays her actions from that night, wondering if maybe she hadn’t done or said certain things, she wouldn’t have reached the moment when words weren’t enough to make him stop.

It doesn’t make her wish that she was now a different person.

Sometimes, I’m sure, she lays awake in the dark of the night wishing that she could go back to a time in her life when her biggest obstacle was healing a broken heart. I’m sure there’s no more bruises permanently marking her delicate skin but I’m also sure her insides still feel like they’ve been tied in too many knots to ever be set free.

I’m sure she meets new men and smiles and acts like her usual charming self but still has a hard time disconnecting their hands from his. I’m sure the small laugh she gives at their attempt at humor conceals a cry that she’s been desperately trying to let escape. I’m sure she panics when they get too close and leave a scent that brings her too close to the memory of that night. I’m also sure her kisses that she tries to give away sweetly are tainted with a bitterness that she’ll never quite be rid of.

I’m sure they don’t know these things that she keeps tucked away close, and I’m sure they never will. Her hidden pain is like a burn that slowly and tortuously increases the longer she ignores it. She finds the cool water to soothe it in the fleeting security of their arms, if only for the one night. Because that’s all she gets, one night at a time to erase the spring night that will never truly go away. A band-aid that she uses as she indefinitely struggles to scrub the scars from a surface that will never let her forget.

Posted on January 27, 2014 by upthestairs87 | 6 Comments